NCIS

Tim hadn't slept well that night because all he could dream about was Riley. For a moment after he would wake up, he'd see Riley's face looking back at him from the other pillow. Then after blinking he would be gone again, and it would hit Tim once more that Riley was dead. He heard King's voice every time telling him that it was his fault, and the guilt would override every other thought in his mind. He wanted to cry again to let it out, but after his dreams he couldn't cry because he hated himself too much. Now all he wanted was to drown himself in work and forget all about the outside world.

He stormed through the rain from the parking lot into NCIS. He didn't want to think about how to ignore the rain the way Riley taught him. He didn't want to think about anything that made him think of Riley. He wordlessly walked past Tony and Ziva's desks and sat down at his desk without even taking off his coat or putting his gun or badge in his desk. The two agents looked at each other with surprise and concern, but cautiously avoided saying anything. McGee hoped he would have enough work to keep him in the office so he wouldn't have to think about the weather.

He held his breath when he heard Gibbs approach the bullpen a few minutes later, but no announcement or orders came while Gibbs sat down at his desk. McGee's hands shook slightly as he lost his train of thought, but he pressed them against his desk and tried to focus on an email. He was startled when Gibbs' desk phone rang, and his heart sank when Gibbs looked up from the call and gave the order.

"Grab your gear, dead marine."

McGee took a deep breath before grabbing his bag and standing up. Gibbs strode over to McGee's desk and held up a hand to have him pause.

Gibbs lowered his voice and whispered, "Tim, no."

McGee tried not to look at Gibbs as he replied, "I'm fine."

"We can handle this," Gibbs offered.

"No, I need to be here. I need the distraction," McGee pleaded.

Gibbs paused contemplatively, then replied, "Okay. But if I tell you to go, you go."

McGee nodded and joined the team as they went to the elevator. The ride to the crime scene was silent. He could see Tony and Ziva exchange glances out of the corner of his eye and guessed that they were probably whispering about him, but he didn't care. He didn't want to talk about it, he just wanted to be in and out of the rain as soon as possible. They pulled up to an alley behind a bar where police had already taped off the area. The marine's body lay face-down on the ground, waterlogged and pale, with a small puddle of vomit around his head that had been spread and diluted by the rain.

McGee tensed at the feeling of the cold rain on his face and hands. For a moment he felt warmth on his cheeks where Riley's would've been, but he quickly blocked the memory and walked under the tape towards the body. Tony and Gibbs went to speak with one of the officers while McGee and Ziva began taking pictures and collecting evidence. McGee at first looked at the marine only through the lens of the camera, but when he saw the body up close with his own eyes he froze. He saw Riley's face on the body with pale blue eyes, stark white skin, and blue lips. He blinked the face away, but he couldn't stop his hands from shaking.

Ziva looked up at him worriedly. "McGee," she softly called. She reached up and put her hands over his on the camera.

The contact snapped him out of his dread for a moment. "Ziva, no. I'm fine."

She looked steadily at him. "I didn't ask, but no, you are not."

"I don't want to talk about it," he muttered and looked away.

"I know you don't want to right now, but just know that when you do, you can talk to me."

"Thank you, Ziva, but I just want to focus on this." He lifted the camera and took another picture of the body even though he had enough pictures of it already.

Ziva nodded, but she still had worry in her eyes. She bent down to scoop some of the vomit into an evidence jar. McGee was glad for an interruption in the scene when Ducky and Palmer arrived to examine the body. He moved to further down the alley to look for anything that could possibly be evidence. While Ducky probed the body, Tony and Gibbs joined the group.

"What do you got, Duck?" Gibbs asked.

"An approximate time of death, given the cold brought by the rain, puts him around four to six hours."

"Fits our witness description," Tony added while looking through his notes. "Bartender places him at the bar until closing time at 2 AM. They kept his keys and called him a cab, but he wandered off while waiting."

Gibbs bent down to get a closer look at the body. "Cause of death?"

"See how his lips have turned deep blue," Ducky pointed to the body's lips, "they're a classic sign of asphyxiation. There are no ligature marks or bruises on his neck to indicate that he was strangled."

McGee kept trying to stay focused, but hearing Ducky speak kept bringing his mind back to how King spoke of Riley's body being discovered. His mind was spinning, and the din of the rain around him started to disorient him. The team's voices seemed distant and echoed in his ears.

Ziva spoke up, "Wallet is still here with money in it, so he wasn't mugged."

"Bartender says no one was with him," Tony chimed in. "Sounds like he might have died alone."

The sound of heavy plastic and glass crashing to the ground startled the team, and they looked up to see McGee holding himself up against the wall with his camera in pieces at his feet. He was pale and shaking.

"Oh god," Tony quickly mumbled and rushed over to him.

"McGee!" Gibbs called and walked over.

"Boss I'm- I'm sorry, I d-dropped- I'm fine-," McGee stammered.

Gibbs shook his head. "No, you're not. Ride back with Ducky and Palmer, then go home. Take a few days of personal time."

"I can-"

"No," Gibbs cut him off. "Go. Home." he ordered slowly. "We'll talk later."

Tony put on hand on Tim's arm and another on his shoulder. "Come on, Tim, let's go. It's ok."

McGee felt terrible as he was escorted away by Tony. He sat in the van waiting for Ducky and Palmer to be done with the body, but he knew he couldn't just sit at home and think. There was only one place he wanted to be.

NCIS

Tim stared blankly off the bridge as the rain poured down in sheets around him. He stood in front of the blackened and crunched railing that was taped off from the accident but still plainly visible. The occasional car passed behind him, one or two honking their horns as he stood just a little too close to where they drove, but he didn't hear them. He didn't even hear the rain as it pounded around him. All he heard since he got in his car to leave NCIS was the memory of the roar of the motorcycle as it revved between his legs, the sound of the wind whistling over his outstretched hand, the smell of Riley's leather jacket in his nostrils, and the screeching of tires before the smashing of metal he wasn't there to hear.

Every time he heard the crash in his mind, he felt like he was the one hit by the car. His insides twisted painfully whenever his eyes found the marks on the railing, but he kept looking back at them. He was too afraid to look down at the dried riverbed under the bridge. Part of him knew Riley's body wouldn't be there, but the rest of him was too afraid that somehow it would be.

It felt wrong standing alone in the rain. Riley was always there with him when he had done it intentionally. Then at the crime scene that morning, even though his friends and coworkers were there he could barely breathe because he felt so alone without Riley with him in the rain. Tim tried to imagine Riley standing next to him, but he couldn't keep the image steady. He imagined Riley in that soaked green Irish Pub t-shirt that clung to his muscled chest, and in his khaki shorts that were now darker for being wet.

"I'm so sorry, Riley," Tim whispered to the image.

"Never apologize," Riley reminded him with his usual cheeky grin.

"I have to. I wasn't here, and if I hadn't…" Tim scrunched his face in a frown and his eyes welled with tears. "If I hadn't broken your heart I would've been there with you, and you wouldn't have been here when that car came. It's my fault."

Riley sat on the metal beam on the side of the bridge where Tim faced. "You came back, remember?"

Tim sobbed quietly as a few tears escaped. Despite the guilt-ridden dreams he had been having, the Riley he truly remembered was supportive as always. "I was going to make it right, but you were still here because of me. I can't just let that go."

A man's voice surprised him from behind, "You're going to have to."

Tim spun around and saw Gibbs standing a few feet behind him. His truck was parked in the middle of the bridge behind them and his hazard lights were on. Tim was too deep in thought to even remember hearing him approach.

"Gibbs…" Tim muttered and quickly wiped away his tears. He glanced back at the railing, but the image of Riley was already gone. He paused for a moment, then looked back to Gibbs and asked, "How did you know I was here?"

Gibbs looked around then replied, "It wasn't hard to guess when you weren't at your apartment and you weren't answering your phone. I wanted to come here too."

"I left my phone at home so I'd be alone," Tim mumbled.

"You can't blame yourself for this, Tim, and he wouldn't want you to. It's not your fault." He slowly stepped towards Tim through the rain.

Tim turned away and looked down at the railing. "He was here because of me, Gibbs! He was stressed because of our fight, and he came out here, and… and… he wanted me to stay…" His voice broke as more sobs wracked through his body. "Why didn't I stay?"

Gibbs walked over to Tim and pulled him into a tight hug. Tim resisted the touch and struggled for a moment, his hands forming fists around the fabric of Gibbs' coat with half of him pulling at Gibbs for comfort and the other half nearly ripping the coat to shreds for physical relief. He settled into a steady cry, letting his tears join the already rain-soaked shoulder. He breathed shakily as Gibbs held him for what seemed like a whole day but by his watch was only two minutes. His body began feeling drained, fatigue from a sleepless night weighing more and more on him. Gibbs put his hands on Tim's shoulders and propped him upright.

"Come on, let's get you out of the rain before you catch a cold," he suggested.

Tim nodded sleepily. "I'll… I'll head home and see you tomorrow."

Gibbs eyed him worriedly. "No, come with me. We need to make a stop first."

"I'll be okay, Gibbs," Tim weakly argued.

"I'm not asking," Gibbs replied softly and prodded Tim along towards the truck.

"But my car-"

"We'll come back for it," Gibbs added. "It's out of the way. It'll be fine."

He nodded again and walked with Gibbs to the truck. When he sat inside, he could feel just how wet and cold he was despite having been numb to it all outside. Looking out at the bridge, he could see and hear the rain growing in intensity. His brain felt like clay, and it took him a moment to muster up the energy to buckle his seatbelt. Gibbs was silent as he started driving.

Tim recognized the turn into the driveway and saw Riley's cabin peeking over the hill as they approached. A small feeling of nausea crept up his stomach as they neared the house. The right garage door where Riley's motorcycle would've been was left open, and the left was closed where the truck usually parked. Tim stared through the open garage door, noting all the details and placing an image of himself mounting the motorcycle behind Riley.

The driver's side door opened and snapped him out of his stupor, and he noticed Gibbs getting back into the truck from having been outside. The dashboard clock showed he'd been sitting there for nearly five minutes even though it seemed to go by in the blink of an eye. Tim sighed as he was losing all concept of his time and surroundings, but by the twisting of his insides upon seeing the house, he knew one thing for certain.

"Looks empty. You ready?" Gibbs asked quietly.

Tim's face fell. "Boss, I don't know if I can go in there."

Gibbs squinted through fogging windshield back to the house. "I checked the doors, there's no crime scene tape sealing it off. The FBI hasn't been here yet."

"No, I-" Tim stammered and paused, a shiver running through his body at the thought of going inside. "That's not what I mean. I mean I don't… I can't."

Gibbs nodded and sighed, still looking out at the house. "When they asked why Riley was out here, why didn't you tell them about the house?"

Tim thought about it for a moment, remembering the questions when he was in Interrogation. "It's what he would've wanted. He said he kept it from his records, and… I just… somehow it felt like the right thing to do."

"Tim…" Gibbs started but hesitated, then clenched his fist and continued. "I'm not sure if you're ready to hear this, but you need to know the truth."

Tim's heart caught in his chest and sent a jolt of anticipation through him.

"Riley was murdered. It wasn't an accident. OMNI put a hit on him."

Tim's jaw dropped and his eyes widened. "What?"

Gibbs huffed with anger and continued, "The FBI used him as a buy-in to get some advanced computer virus."

The wind felt pulled out of Tim's lungs. He struggled to find his voice. "H-h-how do you know?"

"Because Shepard did the same thing for NCIS using Abby, as did other agencies, but OMNI selected Riley as their target just for show. Abby came to me as soon as Shepard told her what was happening, but… Riley-" Gibbs paused to heave an angry huff. "Riley never knew and didn't stand a chance. They were tracking his phone, and Abby's, and yours. Now that he's gone, none of you are being tracked anymore."

Hot tears of horror and rage streamed down Tim's face to his hanging jaw. Instead of the nausea he had previously felt, he felt something else rising in him that he hadn't felt for the past two days: Purpose – a purpose backed by a fierce determination. Shepard couldn't be trusted, Abby was in danger, and Riley needed to be avenged. The wheels started turning in his mind. "What do you need me to do?"

Gibbs would've felt pride in his agent for turning his emotions into focus, but he was too busy feeling the anger of his own. "We have to take OMNI down and expose the corrupt agents. We can't openly investigate Riley's case without drawing attention, but there's no one else who could take on OMNI and the FBI's computers better than you. We need you, for both Abby and Riley's sakes."

Gibbs opened the glovebox and pulled out two pairs of latex gloves. Tim snatched a pair and could feel his 'Agent-mode' ramping up as he began seeing the house as a crime scene.

"You think Riley left OMNI information here?" Tim asked. "He came here to get away from work."

"I'm not sure," Gibbs admitted. "But it's where he was before he died. It's the best place to start."

They both quickly exited the truck and sprinted into the garage. It smelled humid and musty from the open door to the rain, though nothing seemed out of place despite the missing motorcycle. Gibbs drew his gun and tested the doorknob for the door into the house. Finding it unlocked, he whistled for Tim to follow. Tim nodded and drew his gun, having never bothered to remove it during the course of the day.

They entered silently and crept towards the kitchen and living room, both rooms still lit by the overhead lights. The house seemed still and silent, but they still searched every room until they were satisfied that they were alone. Tim noticed Gibbs maneuvering through the house with a sense of familiarity, which reminded him with an awkward tension that Gibbs had been there many more times than he. Pushing that out of his mind, he followed Gibbs back downstairs to the living room.

In the living room on the coffee table, Tim noticed the thick stack of papers of his manuscript next to the empty yellow envelope that carried it, along with Riley's frameless glasses on top. The papers were neatly stacked, though just disheveled enough to look like they had definitely been read through. Tim knelt on the floor next to the table and picked up the glasses, then had to hold back tears as he remembered how he couldn't resist Riley when he wore them. He looked back at Gibbs who was looking through the pictures on the painted gold tree on the wall above the desk.

Gibbs' hand hovered over the empty slot on one of the nails where a picture seemed to be removed somewhat recently. He nodded and gulped as he remembered, then looked down at the desk. He gingerly opened the center drawer and started lightly tapping around the empty envelopes and stationery until he saw the bottom of a picture frame. He pulled the frame out from the drawer as Tim approached behind him. The picture inside was of Gibbs out on the deck on a sunny morning, casually looking out at the valley with a cup of coffee resting on the railing next to him. The frame and glass had a dust layer mostly matching those on the other pictures. Tim remembered Gibbs telling him about the picture, and he realized that Riley must've taken it down when he started seeing Tim. He felt a twinge of pity for Gibbs, realizing what he had lost as well but had no one to talk to about it. Tim put his hand sympathetically on Gibbs' shoulder and lightly squeezed. Gibbs took a deep breath and nodded appreciatively, then slid the picture back in the drawer.

Tim went back to the coffee table and slipped the manuscript into the envelope. "Do you think it'll be okay if I brought this back with me?"

"Is that your new book?" Gibbs asked.

Tim nodded. "He loved it. I want to send it off to be published. We wrote through part of it together, right here on this couch…" he trailed off as he remembered the pair of them curled up on the couch together laughing about the chapter.

He remembered how Riley convinced him to go on the motorcycle ride, leading him to the garage and lending him his father's brown leather jacket. The image of Riley appeared in front of him as it did on the bridge, including his smile. Tim looked up at him as Riley backed away and happily strutted towards the garage. Tim tried to smile with him but couldn't muster it, though he did follow the image in his mind to the garage. Gibbs observed him curiously and followed. Tim slowly walked into the garage even though Riley's image had disappeared. He went over to the closet in the far corner and opened it to find the brown jacket with the single vertical white stripe on a hanger. He pulled out the coat and felt through the pockets wondering if Riley may have left anything there for him to find, but only found the matching brown gloves. The scent of the leather reached his nostrils and brought back the memories of their first ride together, how Tim clung to Riley, how he put himself in Riley's hands that evening, and how they spilled their deepest regrets to each other. The feeling amplified the crushing emptiness inside him, and he squeezed the jacket to himself to relish in the memory.

Gibbs stood by the door watching Tim relive the short time he had with Riley. "You should keep it."

Tim blinked back tears and looked at him. "You think so?"

"Yeah," Gibbs replied with a half-smile. "It's not something the FBI will miss if they ever find this place, but you will."

Tim nodded to Gibbs with a smile and hung the jacket over his arm, then slipped past the truck back towards the house. As he passed the truck, his eyes briefly scanned the license plate and in his mind he added the truck as being in the right place based on the evidence. Then he froze as the thought occurred to him and he whipped his head back around to the truck.

"What?" Gibbs called.

"It's here," Tim mumbled as he mentally ran through the case. "If the FBI didn't know about this house, then they'd be looking for this truck at Riley's apartment and not find it. It's a basic part of any investigation even if they already found his body. So why didn't they report it missing?"

Gibbs nodded in agreement, connecting the pieces. "Then either King knew about this place and was testing what you knew, or he is-"

"-Working with OMNI and burying Riley's death with a bogus investigation," Tim completed. "The house would've been sealed and searched if they knew about it, and they would've asked me about the truck if they were actually looking for it."

"If OMNI tracked him here, they may still be watching the place," Gibbs deduced. "We should leave, quickly."

They both ran out of the garage into Gibbs' truck, then Gibbs carefully steered them out of the driveway so that no tire tracks were left behind.

Gibbs looked around for signs of any cars parked nearby for surveillance, then looked over to Tim. "We need to start looking into everyone managing Riley's case and his team, starting with King. We'll need hard evidence before even trying to make a move. While the team finishes our case, I want you to make a list of equipment we'll need to hack into the FBI. We can't do this from NCIS."

"Okay," Tim replied, though he looked concerned. "How are we going to pay for this? It'll be expensive."

"Shepard," Gibbs answered confidently, though with another twitch of anger. "She'll approve the operation. I'll have cash for you this evening."

Tim nodded and began formulating a search plan in his head.

NCIS

Evelyn Hall was torn between multiple feelings on her trip to Washington, DC. She had concocted a story of a dying friend to beg off of work immediately after the call from DC the previous night, spent very little time at home packing, and was on a red-eye flight out of Dallas in the same clothes she had worked in all day. On the bright side, she had booked herself into a First-Class seat and chose a lavish hotel suite for two nights to give herself some time to luxuriate before and after her meeting with DC, whoever she might be. She also sat in comfort knowing that two of her operatives were booked on the same flight in coach and were staying the next room over.

In the morning, she tried not to obviously rush through her breakfast before walking to a nearby boutique salon for a quick grooming of her long, platinum-blonde hair. Back in her room, she slipped herself into a sleek, knee-length black dress that accentuated her moderate bust and slim tone, then slid into a pair of stiletto heels and put on a simple silver necklace with a single diamond on it. She smoothed her hair over to one side and admired herself in the mirror. This was the side of her life she wanted to live more often, the glamorous powerhouse woman gliding by with an air of confidence, importance, and secrecy.

With two more hours to go, she ordered a car service to pick her up from the hotel at 11:30, met with her operatives to go over surveillance photos of the Dupont Circle and the surrounding buildings, then anxiously paced in her suite while listening to the local news. Ordinarily she wouldn't be nervous about meeting another OMNI Regional Director, but this one held something over her head that could come back to damage her. The one thing on her mind was wondering what was so important that she had to fly out overnight to meet face-to-face when these types of deals were usually done over secure channels.

The rain had died down to a light mist as the rainclouds drifted westward. Hall still donned a black umbrella that complemented her outfit and kept her out of view of whatever cameras that might have been trained on her as she exited the car across from the circle. She tried to blend in with the crowd, a few of whom were wearing suits but many of whom were bumbling tourists.

The Dupont Circle was in the northwest section of Washington, DC, where three large avenues and two narrow streets intersected in a large traffic circle around a small park. Six concrete sidewalks pointed inward to a circular courtyard with a large stone sculpted fountain at the center, while the spaces between the sidewalks were luscious green lawns filled with trees. The courtyard was lined with long park benches where few people sat because of the earlier rain.

Hall strolled towards the large stone fountain at the center with a keen eye observing everyone, especially those by themselves. Her OMNI phone rang in her purse with a phone number she didn't recognize. "Hello?"

An unscrambled and young-sounding female voice lined with sarcasm met her ears. "You could've at least TRIED to look inconspicuous."

Hall looked around and to her right on one of the long benches she saw a short young woman sitting by herself, looking straight at her while on a cell phone. When they locked eyes, the woman smirked and ended the call by closing the cheap, disposable flip-phone. Hall sighed with contempt and walked calmly over, her heels clicking on the wet concrete slabs. The woman had a round face with bright blue eyes and shoulder-length, dirty-blond hair twisted into a bun held in place with a pencil. Her blue jeans and red plaid button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up screamed Gap and made Hall's outfit look like a ballgown. Hall studied the woman and stopped a few feet from her.

"I thought she was coming herself," Hall called to her, semi-concealing her Alabama drawl.

The woman smiled gleefully and held up her open right hand and bare wrist. "Read 'em and weep."

Hall raised her eyebrow at the woman's cavalier attitude, then looked for a dry spot on the bench while she retrieved a small UV flashlight from her clutch. The woman cupped her wrist with her other hand to provide shade for Hall's light, and when Hall shone the light, the OMNI symbol glowed in her skin next to the number '0258.' The designation was a lower number than Hall's, meaning this careless-looking woman had been in OMNI longer that her.

Hall's jaw dropped, and without hiding her accent she quipped, "You're DC?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" she snapped while retrieving her own flashlight.

"I mean, you look like a burnt-out grad student," Hall continued while exposing the back of her neck and turning away from the woman.

DC clicked the flashlight and saw the OMNI symbol glow on Hall's neck next to the number '0319.' "And you look like a dolled-up escort. Believe me, I've buried enough of them for senators."

Hall smoothed her hair back into place and tried to appear comfortable by sitting back on the bench. "I assume you didn't make me fly my ass up here just to make fun of my clothes and take me to a keg party back at your dorm?"

"Ugh, come on, Agent Evelyn Hall, I'd hoped you'd be a little more fun than this," DC quipped with a smile. She then removed the battery and SIM card from her burner phone, then folded the SIM card in half and snapped it. "Or at least grateful. Giving our government operatives tattoos on the neck was actually my idea. Of course, it only came after I had gotten mine on my wrist, but I've probably saved you hours of finding the right fashion accessories."

Hall's eyes narrowed threateningly and defensively crossed her legs. Now DC knew her name, but Hall didn't know hers. She didn't like the imbalance. She lowered her voice to a hiss, "Whatever you think you know about me is the face I put on for OMNI. I would think you'd know how to separate your personal and professional lives. It's what we all have to do."

"Screw separation," DC huffed. "One of the perks of being fully invested in OMNI while being in a position like ours is a real sense of freedom – getting to go outside without looking over your shoulder because you already know someone's there, kicking back in some Chuck Taylors with a pint of Ben & Jerry's knowing that everyone knows what you eat and no one cares, screwing a guy even though you know it's being recorded, all of it. Once you accept complete predictability and give full attention to OMNI, you can move on with your life with complete OMNI protection. Not like those two goons you brought with you; I'm talking everywhere – totally covered. You've got your eye on the glamour of this job, but you can't be this tense or smell of fresh blood when you're rubbing elbows with high-level politicians. They like it when you seem like the one with power, not like the one who pulls the trigger."

"What in hell are you even talking about?" Hall sighed, feeling increasingly annoyed.

"I'm trying to tell you how to act if you want to play in the big leagues out here," DC explained. "If you want more influence over our little shadow economy, you gotta be where the action is, right?"

Hall was visibly taken aback by DC's answer, which DC noticed.

"I mean, it wasn't hard to figure out," she continued. "You imposed your help on me to set up the warehouse for a raid, you ID-ed an Original and sent someone here to claim her instead of telling me; It's pretty clear you're not trying to be a team player here, hun. You want my job, and now we have a problem."

"Two problems," corrected Hall. "You know my real name."

DC smiled. "That's not a problem. Think of it more like a guarantee."

"A guarantee of what?" Hall asked curiously.

"Your cooperation," DC answered with an intriguing smile. "Like I said, I have a proposal to make. Your failed hit on the NCIS girl nearly derailed half of our buyers. I convinced NCIS to calm down and destroy their evidence, but in exchange for letting them know who gets the virus at the end of the auction. So not only are we breaching our buyers' privacy, they also know that this girl is a threat to us and will use that against us. I'm willing to hand her over to you and let you claim her on your own territory after the auction. If you want to work out a deal with NCIS, fine, but I'll step back from the whole thing."

Hall considered her offer. "How generous of you. I assume Zero knows about all this, then?"

DC smiled again. "Another perk of my job I guess you didn't know: I keep the OMNI database, and I don't need his permission to access it. That's also how I got to your operative's stash and found your private number. I just ran a little facial recognition to be sure of who you were. If it's all the same to you, I think it's safe to leave Zero out of this one."

"Alright," Hall smirked, ever-so-slightly impressed. "And what do you get out of this?"

DC propped her head up with her hand and leaned back in her seat on the bench. "What are your two major exports?"

The cities OMNI occupied weren't chosen at random. While each one had money flowing in and out through different types of illicit transactions, they each also had certain specialties unique to their region. In the United States, New York was chosen for its corporate connections, Washington, DC for its political exploits, and Atlanta for its imported drugs. While most people pegged Dallas as oil country based on the TV shows, Hall knew her region's true exports before she even took the position as Regional Director.

"Weapons and manpower," Hall answered. "How much do you want?"

"I haven't decided yet, but I took a hit when the warehouse was raided, and I would just like to regain some of my reserves." DC shrugged. "You'll get your Original when I say so, and I'll get a shipment of guns and guys. That's it, plain and simple."

"Not for me. We still have the problem that you know my name," Hall repeated, staring intently at the other woman.

DC stood up and stretched. "I really wouldn't worry about that. I'm much more interested in OMNI's continued expansion and presence as a whole, which includes your participation as a Regional Director. But make no mistake - even though we're both Regional Directors, I highly outrank you. Any move you make against me will not go over well with anyone else on our level, whereas me simply whispering your name in the wrong ear at the NSA would bring your usefulness to a very sudden and definitive end. Consider what having me as a real friend could do for you, especially if I decide to groom you as my successor."

She walked happily away as Hall watched her, her true abilities hidden under a perfect guise of nonchalance. Hall couldn't believe how they were seriously negotiating terms in broad daylight with a bustling crowd of people around them. Hall continued sitting on the bench pondering for nearly ten minutes after DC had disappeared into the masses. She still hadn't been killed by any of DC's agents, and while she wasn't perfectly comfortable with the imbalance of power, she now had DC believing they would be allies and knew her current weakness. It was a step in the right direction for Hall, who stood up with a smirk and called for her car.

NCIS

Tim returned to NCIS to the surprise of both Tony and Ziva, though he didn't involve himself in the case. Instead he spent much of the evening preparing the list of equipment he'd need to covertly hack the FBI, which included setting up an account with an Internet Service Provider under a false business name, the same tactics used by OMNI. He didn't believe it when he called Gibbs to tell him they would need nearly $4,000 worth of equipment, and Gibbs merely replied, "Okay." He half-smiled with technological glow knowing he'd soon have his hands on the best of the best in consumer computer products. He sat by his computer, flicking through the pictures he had taken on his iPhone, and stopped when he saw his favorite – one he took of Riley reading while sitting in the large plushy chair in the bedroom. He brushed his thumb over the image of Riley's face.

"We'll find 'em, Riley. I promise."

The case that began their day was simple enough such that Tony and Ziva both agreed that Tim could go home. Tim didn't leave at first, though he conceded when he realized he couldn't do anything else on his covert investigation before Gibbs got the money from Shepard, which would take more time. Even though he knew his way home, he had forgotten to turn off the Maps app that he used to get back from Riley's cabin. The directions kept changing and rerouting as the feature was still new, but he decided to let it guide him the rest of the way back out of curiosity. The rain had finally stopped as he was driving home, though the remaining haze painted his vision orange from the glow of passing streetlamps. As he sat waiting for a green light at an intersection, his phone rang on the dashboard mount. He quickly retrieved it and nearly dropped it when he saw Abby's contact calling in. He flicked the Answer button and the speaker button.

"Hey, Abs, I'm so sorry, I completely forgot to come see you today. I wasn't really working the case with the others, I was just…"

There was silence as he tried to figure out the words to communicate his focus on investigating Riley and forgetting about her.

"I dunno," he continued, "I'm just not doing great after all of this. How are you?"

Silence.

"Abby?"

A scrambled female voice replied, "I'm sorry, this isn't Abby."

His eyes widened as he stared at the phone. With a concerned frown he ended the call, then redialed Abby's number hoping to actually reach her.

The phone answered, but the scrambled voice replied. "Agent McGee, please listen. I need your help."

Tim's sense of alarm grew, and he looked around at the nearby pedestrians and cars for anyone that was looking at him. "Where's Abby? What have you done with her?!"

"No, no, nothing. I'm not actually using her phone. I just needed you to answer when you were alone in your car."

He heard the hesitation in the voice and kept looking around. His vision caught on the one thing looking straight at him – a traffic control camera trained right on his car from across the intersection. His jaw started hanging at the possibility that he was being seen there. "Who is this?"

"You can call me Amber. I need your help."

"Help with what?"

"I'm with OMNI, and I want out."

Tim froze. He was being contacted directly by OMNI, the very people who killed Riley. In his rear-view mirror he saw multiple cars lining up behind him at the light that should've turned green already, yet hadn't, and he was at the front of the line. The more he looked, the more he could swear the camera to be looking more at him than his car.

"Why would you contact me?"

"Because I know you were able to outsmart some of our people before, and I'm hoping you can do it again. Please, I'm scared. I don't know where else to go."

His grip on the steering wheel tightened. He weighed the situation in his mind – on one hand, she was part of a domestic terrorism organization, was possibly involved in killing his boyfriend, and was likely leading him into some kind of trap. But on the other hand, she may be a victim like Manning, and she was asking for help. Either way, he felt anger and fear building inside him.

"If you're really with OMNI, then you'll know that I don't want anything to do with you."

"What you really want is to bring us down, and I'm willing to help you with that. But there's something I want you to do first – a test. I need to know that I can trust you."

"Trust?" he snarled, ignoring his fear and letting the stranger feel his anger. "Do you know what OMNI has done to me? To the people I love?! Why the hell should I even believe anything you're saying?!"

Even through the phone, he could hear her distress. "You don't understand! I know things here, and that has me trapped! Even if this phone call surfaces, I'll be executed for going to the feds. I'm expendable. I can barely do anything without OMNI noticing. It's taken a lot for me to even set this up."

He frowned up at the camera. "If you're doing what I think you're doing, you're probably not as expendable as you say."

There was silence, then the light finally turned green. Tim hurriedly accelerated but was soon at another red light with another traffic camera.

"Traffic lights are nothing compared to the things you can't see happening, Agent McGee," she replied smartly through the scrambler. "Your phone and your computer are both infected with a tracking virus, and if you do this test for me then I'll disable it permanently even if you decide not to help me afterward."

Tim's mouth hung open, and his eyes were fixed on his phone. His thoughts flew so rapidly through his mind that he could barely keep them straight. 'They tracked Riley… they tracked me before, even Gibbs told me, but they're still tracking me? Are they going to try to kill me? Will she have me killed if I don't help her?' He started wondering if he even had a choice. "What is it you want me to do?"

The light turned green again, letting him proceed.

"When the call ends, your map will update with a new address that will take you to a parking lot. In spot 12 there will be a bag of coffee against the wall, and I want you to pick it up."

Alarms went off in Tim's head. Coffee was often used to cover the smell of drugs during smuggling.

"No. Absolutely not. I'm not trafficking drugs for you."

"It's not drugs, it's… something personal. I want you to run whatever lab tests you can and let me know the results. But don't, under any circumstances, try to ID me with it. If I get flagged on any system, that will put me in danger."

Tim considered his options. "How will I know that you've lived up to your end of the bargain? I didn't know I was being tracked before, so how will I know I'm not being tracked after?"

"When you're done, I'll remotely deactivate it on your computer, and then send you something that will disable the OMNI source code on your phone. You'll see your phone process it. If you do this test and decide to help me after, I'll give you whatever information I can about OMNI before you get me out."

He didn't like it, and while his gut told him that it was dangerous, it also told him that she needed help and it was his job to help her.

"Okay. I'll do it."

"Thank you, Agent McGee."

The call ended, and the address changed in his Maps app to lead him down a different route. The light then changed from red to green, and he followed the route to an alley parking lot. Puddles of water obscured the numbers on many of the spots, but number 12 stood empty and had a shining silver coffee bag. Tim popped his trunk and pulled an evidence bag and some latex gloves from his go-bag. He gingerly lifted the coffee bag from the ground and sealed it in the clear evidence bag. Holding the bag like a bomb, he grabbed his phone with his other hand and hesitantly dialed Abby as he got back into the car.

This time, Tim could tell the voice actually belonged to Abby. "Hey, I missed you today. Gibbs told me what you guys are going to be up to. Are you okay?"

He looked at the evidence bag in his hand. "I think I've just been tapped by OMNI."